Fractal Fragments
by RenkonNairu
Summary: A collection of pieces of stories inspired by Disney's Frozen.
1. Unwanted Grandson

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or its related characters. Such is the property of Walt Disney Animation Studios, Walt Disney Pictures, Jennifer Lee, John Lasseter, and, of course, Hans Christian Anderson. I'm just borrowing it for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: This is not a story. This is a collection of _pieces_ of stories that I've had ideas for but have no desire to pursue. If you have any desire to adopt or continue these ideas, please feel free to. All that I ask is that you mention where you got the inspiration from in an author's note. Have fun and enjoy!)

Fractal Fragments

**The Unwanted Grandson**

Normal prisoners' hands were bound with wood or rope. But his were shackled in iron. The metal was on against his skin, turning red from the head radiating off him, but it did not burn like wood or rope. He stood on the edge of the cliff, overhanging the harbor, and looked at those gathered for his 'trial'. His eyes scared over the judge in his cumbersome black robes, and the witnesses whom gathered to witness his sentence. Instead his eyes focused on one man.

The Duke.

"Please…" He whispered. Eyes focused on the old man's, unblinking, unwavering. "Please, grandfather, don't do this."

The crowd shifted. All eyes turning from the convict to the Duke of Wesleton, waiting to hear the old man's reply.

The Duke's mustache came down in a harsh frown, his eyes narrowing with contempt. He was never very fond of his grandson's… abilities. The old man always viewed them to be unnatural. But it wasn't until his trip to Arendelle and his experience with the Frozen Summer and the Snow Queen that convinced him that magic was evil and all magical persons were monsters. The Duke's eyes held no sympathy or remorse when he said, "How my daughter could have ever birthed a creature like you, I'll never understand. You are no grandson of mine!"

Clearing his throat, the judge drew everyone's attention back to himself. He unfurled a paper and read. "Lord Brandhiem, you have been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft and will be sentenced to death by drowning. Have you any final words to say in your defense?"

Brandhiem's eyes darted to the judge briefly before returning to the Duke. "Grandfather, please! I did nothing wrong! I just have magic. That's all! I haven't done anything!"

The Duke wasn't listening. He just shook his head, turning, and walked away.

With nothing left to be said and nothing left to hear the judge rolled back up his paper and nodded to the guards. Flames leapt up around Brandhiem, licking at the soldiers with tongues of fire. They couldn't approach him bare handed, so they prided at him with iron-toped speeds, forcing the man back until he fell over the cliff and crashed into the water below. The harbor bubbled and steamed. It remind like that for hours until the tide rolled out, taking the fire witch with it.

…

In the months following the Frozen Summer, Elsa and Anna both spent a great deal of time earning back the people's trust. Hosting ice scatting in the courtyard during the summer helped great. But as the summer drew to its natural close people became nervous once more. As winter drew nearer people began to wonder how it would affect their new Queen or how the Queen would affect it. But now they were into early January, a new year had started and, thus far, it was one of the gentlest winters Arendelle had ever seen.

The snows fell in gentle flurries, blanketing the town and fjords in soft layers of fluffy powder. The harbor froze over, but not with the irons-hard and impenetrable sheets that trapped the ships of the visiting dignitaries over the summer, or expanded and burst as in the final moments before the Great Thaw. Instead, Arendelle was the picture of the perfect magical winter wonderland.

With a few accept ions of course. Nature was still nature. Magic could not be expected to do everything for everyone. As the winter chill froze the harbor water each night, the ice had to be cut each morning, the ships freed from their moorings.

Waking early each morning, before dawn, and making his way down to the water, Sven pulling a sled piled with tools. Kristoff couldn't help but smile. Elsa's magic might have made the winters gentler, but there was still ice. He was still in business. And business was good. He and the other ice workers met on the docks. They exchanged pleasant greetings, rubbing their gloves together to work some heat into their hands or sharpening saws and oiling clamps.

"That spot looks a bit thin." One said, pointing to a spot where instead of the matte white of solid ice, it looked darker, almost clear and the ocean wake could be seen gurgling beneath the surface.

"Then we'll avoid it and let the water take care of it once we get most of the big stuff out of the way." Kristoff shrugged.

The others nodded. "Alright lads! Lets get started!"

Beginning with saws the men hopped off the docks and onto the solid sheet. Each picked a spot. Pierced the sheet with the saws and began carving up the ice. Singing a working song as they went. All the while watching their foot and keeping an eye out for thin ice. Nothing ruined a morning worse than having to rush one of your friends home to keep him from freezing to death.

"Is it just me," another ice worker leaned over to Kristoff, "or is the thin spot moving?"

Kristoff looked over to the dark spot in the ice. He was right. It had moved. Where once it was just inside the inlet, now the think ice looked to have moved farther in towards the harbor. Leaving a trail of thin, dark ice to show a record of its movement. Kristoff tilted his head to the side, studying it. That wasn't normal. -Not that much of Arendelle could be considered 'normal' nowadays.- But this wasn't what Kristoff had come to recognize as Arendelle's particular brand of 'normal'. He handed his saw off to someone else.

"I'll be right back…" And crossed the harbor to the thinner ice.

Taking each step slowly. Testing the ice before placing his eight on it. Kristoff got as close to the thin ice as he dared. At a better vantage point now it looked like whatever it was, was being pushed in by the tide. The question was, what was it? Whatever it was, it was melting the ice from the underneath. He took another step closer, trying to see what it was.

…And fell through the ice.

The next thing Kristoff knew, he was freezing cold. Under water. Unable to breath. And he wasn't alone. Blinking his eyes, Kristoff found that he was looking right at another man, unconscious, likely dead, trapped under the ice, his hand and feet bound in chains. He screamed. But all that came out were bubbles. Hi kicked his feet and beat with his arms, trying desperately to reach the surface again.

Hands were punted into the water after him. Hauling him out and -not back onto the ice, it would not support their weight- but onto a small skiff. The dry air was colder than the water he was just rescued from. Someone started helping him to pull off his wet cloths and draped a dry blanket over him.

"And you were the one who said to keep clear of the thin spot." One of his fellows laughed. "Shall we be taking you home then? Or to the palace and your lovely little Princess?"

Kristoff ignored the remark. They had to know. Speaking through his shivers, he said, "T-there's s-s-someone els-se down th-there."

The other men exchanged confused looks.

"Get him up to the palace." One of them ordered. "His Princess will want to fuss over him. You two, lets take a look."

Two other men in a second skiff began seating the water with blunted hooks and nets. The last thing Kristoff heard before he blacked out was someone exclaim, "My god! He's still warm!"

'_Of course he was warm._' Kristoff thought. '_He's what was melting the ice_.'

…

Elsa watched the royal physician do a thorough examination of the man they pulled from the ice. Not only was it amazing that he was still alive, but the ice workers said he was still warm when they pulled him out. No one knew who he was or where he came from. Certainly no one in town recognized him. Perhaps he came from an outlying farm? Or one of the more isolated settlements in the mountains? Higher in the pass, part Oken's Trading Post.

The physician cleaned the abrasions left behind by his shackles. Was he a criminal? But where would he have come from. The only jail near by was Elsa's own dungeons under her palace. But she knew he couldn't have come from there. So where else then? And why was he bound in chains? Was he a criminal? Was he dangerous?

Standing, the physician cleared his throat. "Its the most amazing thing. He was warm when they brought him out of the ice, but his temperature has risen so much so quickly. I've never seen anything like it!"

On the other side of the bed, a maid was dabbing his forehead with a moist towel. "I can't bring his fever down."

"With a fever this high, I'm surprised he's not dead." The physician shook his head. "It was wise of the ice workers to bring him here, Your Majesty. Between being trapped under the ice for who knows how long, and now this burning fever… he should be dead twice over, but he lives. Its obvious that there's some sort of magic at work here. Perhaps you will have better luck than I."

Elsa placed a hand on her hip, studying the mysterious man. His curls of red-gold hair that was soaking wet when they brought him in was dry now, showing just how vibrant its shine was, coppery red and bright gold, each ringlet like a tongue of flame against the white pillow. His brows knit together in an apparent nightmare. His lips turned down in a sever frown. Elsa decided he might have been handsome if he weren't so troubled. She placed a hand on his forehead.

By the gods! He _was_ hot! Burning, in fact. It hurt her hand. Elsa bit the inside of her cheek and formed a thin crusting of frost over her hand to insulate herself from his burning temperature. The physician was right, with a fever like this, he should be dead.

To her surprise, the frost covering her hand melted in an instant, turning back to water, then to steam, before disappearing all together.

Elsa leapt back. He was so warm he melted her ice! He was still warm when they pulled him from the ice. He had a fever so high he should be dead, but he wasn't. And he melted her ice! _He melted her ice!_ Aside from a heart full of true love -something she was quite side she did not feel for this mysterious but random _stranger_- the only thing she could imagine that could do that would be other magic! This man must have magic, like she had magic! Only not ice. He was so hot… fire magic!

The man groaned. "Grandfather… please…"

The Queen and the physician exchanged a look. He was waking up. Maybe he could tell them where he came from. The maid redoubled her efforts to bring down her fever.

The man's eyelids fluttered, his eyes parting slightly. He sighed at recognizing a soft bed and gentle lighting. Then, sensing other people in the room with him, he opened his eyes more. Suddenly realizing he was in an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar people, he awoke fully with a start. "Who are you!? Where am I!? Am I dead?"

"Easy now." The physician soothed in his best bed-side-manner voice. "You're safe, son. You're not dead. But you are very sick. We have to bring your fever down."

"Fever…?" He stared at the other man for a moment as if he didn't understand. "I don't get fevers… I'm just… warm."

The physician looked like he was about to say more, but there were two things Elsa had to know before they went any further. She was Queen and as such had a responsibility to protect her people. "When you were pulled out of the harbor, you were wearing shackles." She said. "Are you dangerous?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then, he turned from her and looked at his hands, studying the abrasions left by his bindings. They must have removed them when they found them. That was nice of them. They were nice, but they weren't stupid. People were usually chained from reasons and they were right to ask if he was dangerous.

"Yes." He finally answered, not looking at the Queen.

"Because you have magic?" Elsa pressed.

He looked up at her, surprised. Almost panicked. "I'm not a monster." He promised, almost pleaded. "I don't want to hurt anyone. If you let me go, I won't hurt anyone. But if you keep me here bad things will happen."

So, he was chained because he had magic and had trouble controlling it. Like she was locked up in her own dungeons because she couldn't control her own powers and froze the summer. Elsa instantly sympathized with him. She stepped closer to the bed, no longer afraid of him. Summoning her magic, she erected a sculpture of ice next to the bed. "I don't fear your magic. And maybe I can help you control it. Though, I admit, I'm still learning myself."

He stared at her, mesmerized. Comprehension finally dawning. "You have ice magic. You're Arendelle's Snow Queen!"

"I am." Nodded Elsa. "Who are you?"

"I am-" He cut himself off. He didn't want to give the name Brandhiem. As his grandfather said, he was no longer the Duke's grandson. He was not Lord Brandhiem of Wesleton. And after the betrayal he just suffered, he didn't want to be anymore either. But she was a Queen, and she asked him a question, and she expected an answer. "Brand. Just Brand."

…

(A/N: That's if for this Fractal Fragment. I had thoughts of Brand either going back to Wesleton and attempting to take revenge on the Duke fro condemning him, but having Elsa stop him. But I don't really have the energy to write it. I'm already working to to many stories at the moment and just don't have the time. Maybe another writer will like this idea and take it up. You all have my permission to. Just mention where you got the idea in an author's note. Thank you and good night!)


	2. Brigands

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or its related characters. Such is the property of Walt Disney Animation Studios, Walt Disney Pictures, Jennifer Lee, John Lasseter, and, of course, Hans Christian Anderson. I'm just borrowing it for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: This idea morphed a lot while I was writing it. I started it while I was re-watching an episode of Grimm, the one with the illegal gladiator ring. The idea for this story was originally for Elsa to be kidnapped and forced to fight in a secret magical fight club -the prize being her freedom. About a quarter of the way through the actual kidnap scene, that idea changed to 'Hans attempts to kill her, frame another country and force Arendelle into a war they'd need his help with'.)

Fractal Fragments

**Brigands**

There was a sudden stab of panic as Elsa was ambushed from behind. A black bag of heavy canvas was pulled down over her face, preventing from seeing the faces of her attackers. Her magic, a primal reaction to her alarm, flared ice all around her in wicked-looking jagged shards. Spears of freezing crystal pointing outwards in a circle all around her. She couldn't see, but her ice must have gotten one of them, because she heard an unpleasant squish sound followed by a scream and the groaning grunt of a last breath. She raised her hands up to claw at the bag over her head and focus her eyes on her assailants.

But before she could loose the string that held it fast, the ground under her feet shifted. As if she were suddenly standing on an angry snake, desperate to shake her off. Elsa was throne off balance, stumbling to keep from falling to her knees. Since when was the earth so unstable? She heard another one of them -the leader no doubt- shout an order she didn't quite understand.

"Flicker! Bring the heat!" It was a gruff, hard voice. The kind one would expect to hear in the most unsavory parts of the world. What was a voice like that -and more importantly, the man it belonged to- doing in a place like Arendelle? Assaulting the Queen! That was what. "Don't make me tell you twice! Do it now!"

Elsa had almost freed her head from the bag, her eyes just barely managing to catch a glimpse of her attackers when she was hit with something she did not expect. A wave of burning heat slammed into her. Heat so strong, she would have thought she was on fire. It melted her ice and threw her off her feet. Off balance and confused, she looked up at a man her own age, his hand outstretched, a tongue of flame dancing in his palm.

Another magic user!

"I'm sorry." He whispered, eyes full of remorse.

That was the last thing she registered before someone else hit her from behind. Then all there was, was blankness.

…

"Good work, Flicker." Boss grinned, standing over the prostrate form of Arendelle's Snow Queen. "That was easier'n I thought. Almost makes me feel bad fer takin' that Prince's money. Heh, almost."

'Flicker' glared at his Boss, then looked down at the woman at their feet.

He had not been in the practice of accosting young women in the night three years ago. But that was before his own powers were discovered by his home village and he was given the ultimatum, leave home or be killed by his neighbors. He chose to leave home. It wasn't long before his travels were interrupted by a group of brigands. But, unlike his village, the people whom knew him from birth, the Boss did not shrink away in fear of his powers, but instead offered him a job and gave him the pseudonym he now went by. The following three years were a tumult of unsavory jobs that Flicker preferred not to think on to often, or examine to critically. He slept better if he didn't think about it.

But this job left a bad taste in his mouth.

In retrospect, Flicker should have known this job would be different the moment he saw the client. A rich-looking, gussied up fellow, soft hands, and milly white, like he'd never worked a day in his life just didn't belong in the types of places where they hung out. But he walked right into their bar, bold as you please. Fancy waistcoat, and polished shoes, a handkerchief pressed to his nose like his farts didn't stink, and there was Whisper showing him to their table and introducing him as 'Prince Hans of the Southern Isles'.

Flicker had never heard of him.

The Prince explained that he had a certain problem. The type of problem that individuals like themselves might have an inkling of how to handle. He would, of course, compensate them for services rendered. Half now. Half upon completion of the job. To illustrate this, the Prince pulled out a purse full of gold and tossed it on the table all calm and casual like. Like cold, hard cash ain't nothin' to him.

Boss picked up one of the coins and bit into it. Gold was a soft metal. The best way to test if it was fake, colored, or plated was to chomp into it. Once he was satisfied, Boss extended his hand to the Prince. "Well, mister, you got yourself a deal."

That was what brought Flicker to this moment. Kneeling over the unconscious Queen of Arendelle. Another person like himself. Blessed and cursed with magic. With the power to create and control an element. He had fire. Whisper had air. Boss had earth. Now he'd met ice. Flicker stroked her pale hair, as white and soft as freshly fallen snow, and tucked a loose strand back behind her ear. She was mighty pretty, Arendelle's Snow Queen. But that didn't mean a lick. She was a job and the job needed doing. Job don't get done, then they don't get payed -as Boss often reminded them all.

Flicker pulled the dark canvas bag back over head. "We best be gettin' the move on. Lest ya wanna get pinched."

Boss nodded, hoisting the Queen up into his back. "I expect that Prince'll be wantin' the good delivered too."

…

Elsa came to groggily.

The first thing she became aware of was that her head hurt -a lot. That's right! She'd been hit from behind! The second and third things she was aware of where that the bag was still over her head and that she was being carried over someone's shoulder. Fear once again seized her and a heavy frost erupted from her body.

"Son of a-!" Exclaimed the one holding her. She recognized the voice as the one giving orders during her capture. That gruff, unsavory voice. It made her think of deep caverns, or shadows under rocks, goblins under mountains. "Brrrrr!"

"Looks like our job's awake." Said another. This one's voice she did not recognize. Either he was not present for her kidnapping or had remained silent during the ordeal. Perhaps he waited outside the gates with the get-away horses, or carriage, or whatever. In retrospect, Elsa decided it was stupid to keep the gates open all the time. She told Anna they would 'never' close them again. But after she got home -and she _would_ get home, mark her- they were going to reexamine that statement and decide when they really needed them open and when it was safer to have them closed. At night for example.

"Flicker, you take her." Elsa was tipped off the shoulder she hung over and was passed to another man. 'Flicker'? That was the one who melted her ice, right. The one with the fire magic. The one who said he was 'sorry'.

His hands were hot on her arms as he restrained her, his skin almost burning her own. Since she was awake, there was no need to carry her like a sack of flour. Flicker let her stand on her won feet while he twisted her wrists behind her back, causing great pain to her arms and ensuring the least amount of struggling from her. Elsa did struggle, however. She was not the type to be taken prisoner lightly. She couldn't move to much for feat of damaging her arms, but she did lash out with her magic. Ice, and frost, and wind, and cold. To all of which her capture responded with fire, and heat. He seemed to have much more control over his powers than she did and he was not intimidated by her display.

"I see some of her sister's feistiness has rubbed off on her."

Elsa recognized that voice! She would not forget that voice. It was permanently burned into her mind. 'Queen Elsa, don't become the monster they fear you to be!'… 'Your sister? Your sister is dead! You froze her heart!' It was the voice of the man who manipulated her sister, and tried to kill _her_ to steal their kingdom from them. Prince Hans, thirteenth son to the late King and Dowager Queen of the Southern Isles. Elsa redoubled her efforts to get free. If she could just get the bag off her head and see where she was, maybe she could devise a way out.

"Alright," said their Boss, the one with the gruff, goblin voice. "We brought what ya asked. Now to the subject of our payment."

Of course Hans would be behind this. Hiring these ruffians to kidnap her! But,why?

"Payment?" Hans laughed. And she could see in her mind's eye the vile smile that must be on his face when he said that. "It seems you gentleman have misapprehended the point of holding this meeting here. I don't intend for any of you to walk away from this transaction. Once the Queen of Arendelle's body if found on the borders of Wesleton with the bodies of the her kidnappers -who will be dressed as the Duke's guards- then her sister will have to declare war. But Arendelle's military is to weak to stand on its own. She'll have to form a treaty with another country that does have a stronger military."

"And I'd be guessing that other country'd be the Southern Isles."

"Hm, you're smarter than I give you credit." Elsa could hear the casual shrug in his voice. "Of course, we won't accept any treaty short of a permanent contract. Something sealed by an act of commitment -like a marriage. One way or another, I will be King of my own Kingdom."

"A mighty fine plan." Commented the one who wasn't present during her kidnapping. "But you got yourself a bad habit, son. It ain't to bright tellin' people your plan before its done. Specially not the people you're plannin' ta kill and frame as this 'Duke's' guards."

"We do take exception to that." Said the one holding Elsa, Flicker, and his grip on her wrists loosened ever so slightly.

Elsa wiggled her fingers and wriggled her wrists, testing to make sure they weren't injured, they just hurt. But she did not step away from Flicker. She may be new to all this dirty dealing, but she wasn't dumb. If Hans had just made himself her captor's enemy, then they might turn around and become her allies. After all, he seemed intent to kill all four of them. They might need her to help defend themselves just as much as she was fairly confident she would need them. She was still getting used to using her powers freely rather than suppressing and hiding them, Flicker appeared to have much more comfort and control of his. Heck! She barely managed to hold her own against_ two_ of the Duke's guards!

"Well now…" Said the Boss. "That does change things a bit. See, we done a job for ya and we expect ta be payed. 'Deliver the Snow Queen.' We held up our end now you hold up your end. Otherwise, you got yourself a bit of trouble, of the 'you owe us' variety. Lets not be adding to the account by threatening our lives. Payment in full and everyone walks away happy."

Several things happened all at once, Elsa wasn't quite sure what was going on.

There was the _sheeing_ of a sword being unsheathed. The ground once again became unstable against her feet, but this time she wasn't standing on the epicenter. The wind picked up, it whipped her dress around her thighs and swept a swarm of leaves and twigs around them. Flicker knocked her to the ground, the heat radiating over her back told her that he was launching a fire attack. Desperate to know what go going on, Elsa took advantage of her captor's distraction to rip the bag off her head. Finally, she could see where she was.

They were at a cross-roads. Hans was there, as she already surmised. But he was accompanied by two soldiers wearing the uniforms of the Southern Isles' guards. So, he had the forethought to bring back-up. That nifty considering he was planning on killing the ones who did his dirty work. They battled with her captors whom, to Elsa's great surprise, were not fighting with weapons, but rather were wielding the very air around them, or earth beneath them, or fire from… from within, she supposed.

Now there was the question, did she stay and help the people who had kidnapped her? They were fighting a common enemy, after all. Add her ice to their earth, air, and fire? Or did she do the sensible thing and get the heck out of there?

Hans said they were on the border of Wesleton, but where along the border? They were on a at a crossroads, according to the signs they were west of the Icescarp Mountains, that meant they were on the exact opposite side of the mountains from Arendelle. Wow, how long was she out? Elsa didn't have any problems scaling the North Mountain in a night. But that was one mountain, not a whole range! How did they manage to get here so fast?

She looked back at them. It would take her at least three days to cross the mountains. Or she could make her way to the coast and hire a ship to sail around the gulf. The ship could save her a day. But both would take time. She needed to get home as fast as she could! The longer she was gone, the more tense things in Arendelle would become. Even without her dead body being found on the borders of Wesleton as Hans intended, with the Queen absent, suspicions would arise and people would turn to Anna for leadership.

As reluctant as she was to help the men who assaulted her in her own home, she wanted to know how they managed to cross the mountains so quickly. If she was going to have the chance to find out, she would have to help them. Darn.

(( A fight goes here. ))

Hans' soldiers grabbed their unconscious Prince and threw him onto his horse. Climbing onto their own, they galloped a speedy retreat.

Elsa watched then go for a few moments, making sure they were well on their way gone with no intention of coming back for a second round. Then, when she was sure they weren't coming back, she turned her attention back to her three captors.

Their Boss slumped against the signpost, nursing a nasty slice on his arm. A wound dealt to him by one of Hans' guards. Elsa stood over him, her hands folded in deceptive modesty.

"Well, missy, 'spect you be wantin' some payback fer the whole kidnappin' thing."

"I do." She nodded.

He threw his arms up in defeat. "Won't be getting a better shot than now."

Elsa smiled a coy smile. "I'm not going to kill you." She said. "You took me from my home. Now you're gonna take me back -and as quickly as you can."

"I think we can do that." He half-grunted, half-laughed. "Ya ain't gonna turn on us the moment the job's done like the Prince there? Can't be to carful takin' jobs from royals. You folk are slipperier than a toad in muck."

Deciding to be the bigger person, Elsa chose not to be insulted by that. Hans certainly fit that description. She did not. "Not only will I not turn on you when you've returned me to my home. But I will compensate you for your services. How does that sound?"

All three of them exchanged a look. Then nodded. "Alright, missy, we can work out the payment later."

"And my name is not 'missy'. It's Elsa. Or 'Your Majesty' if you want to keep it formal." She added testily.

"Gotcha. I'm Tremor and I'm the Boss of this operation. That's Whisprer and Flicker."

Nodding to each man as he was named, Elsa offered her hand to help the Boss back to his feet. "I would like to leave at once. If you don't mind gentlemen?"

…

(A/N: The secret of how they crossed the mountains so fast was going to be that, instead of going over them, they went under them. Through a series of caves and passages that cut the trip in half and saved them having to brave the mountain weather. Also, to spite the fact that most of the OC focus was on Flicker, this was also supposed to be a romantic mess with Elsa developing feelings for all three of them over the course of their journey back to Arendelle.)


End file.
